


Old Fashioned Rewind

by bloomingbright



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Rating May Change, Snapshots, pricefield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomingbright/pseuds/bloomingbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max and Chloe revisit snapshots of their life through a photo album.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The dreamy morning streamed through the blinds into the almost-empty room, creating soft, fuzzy stripes against the white walls they had always intended to paint, but could never agree on a color for. Max supposed that was a problem that would come with them on their journey, to be unpacked along with their boxes and furniture when they reached their new home. Their new, old home.

From where she sat, encircled by open cardboard boxes which were scrawled upon in permanent marker with a mixture of lazy descriptions and giant, capitalized profanities, Max could hear echoed guitar riffs playing from Chloe’s laptop somewhere down the hall. She was probably in the kitchen, as the music was accompanied with enthusiastic “dert-na-nert-ner’s” and the melodic clinking of dishware as it was lifted down off of shelves. What a strange sort of nostalgia it was, Max thought, to so dearly miss a place that they hadn’t yet left. It was very similar to that feeling of dread in the times of greatest contentment, the inexplicable longing for the moment that was still going on—because that was the thing about moments, wasn’t it? Even the ability to rewind time could only serve to delay their ultimately inevitable end.

Wowser, that was depressing.

 _It’s time to keep moving forward, Max._ That seemed to be the soundtrack of her life. _This is the start of a new experience. It’s a new chapter. I should be looking forward to it._ She sighed. _I just hope we’re making the right decision._

Too late, Max realized that the hallway had grown quiet. Suddenly, a bright flash went off, filling the room with a blinding light that caused her to look up in surprise.

“And here we have the wild Maximus Dork-a-tron in her natural state of staring into space and getting absolutely nothing done!”

“Hey!” Max cried, rubbing the floating, yellow dots from her eyes. “I’ve gotten a _lot_ done! Look at all these packed boxes. I’m like, a packing machine.”

The blue-haired girl grinned broadly, plucking the photo from the analog camera around her neck and shaking it. “Awwww, look at you, all thoughtful and shit. I almost feel bad for interrupting.”

“Ugggh,” Max groaned, jumping to her feet and maneuvering around the mountain of boxes to grab for the photo. “That was _so_ not fair. I look totally zoned out!”

“You look cute. Even if you are procrastinating.”

“Excuse me, and what are _you_ doing right now?”

“I am taking a break to visit my favorite SuperMax in the whole world. Obviously.”

“Mm-hmm.” Max folded her arms over her chest.

“I packed, like, half the kitchen and then I got bored, okay? Packing is hella boring.”

“It is boring,” Max agreed, pushing her oversized glasses up on her nose. “I think we’re almost done, though. Aren’t we?”

“Uhhh, yeah. I think so. Pretty sure we’ve just got the bathroom after this and then we’re good to fucking go, yo.” Chloe’s eyes drifted over to the top of one of the boxes, where a thick book with a worn, wrinkled cover played the role of a coaster beneath a half-empty glass of milk.  “Heeeey, I remember that album.”

Max followed her gaze and smiled. “Oh, yeah. I found it in the drawer while I was packing. Funny, considering where we’re going.”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” Chloe said, reaching towards the album with grabby hands. Max lifted the glass of milk and grabbed the book out from under it, then placed the glass down on the windowsill instead. She lowered herself down to the floor and scooted against the wall, cracking the album open gently. Chloe jumped and plopped down beside her enthusiastically, bumping against Max as she made herself comfortable. The blue-haired girl pulled the open pages onto both of their laps so they could look together.

The photos pasted in were like an immediate rewind through time. The Everyday Heroes selfie, never turned in. A selfie of Max in her dorm room mirror. Various people and things around Blackwell. Rachel Amber 4 Ever. Chloe dancing on her bed.

“Holy shit, Max. We look like such babies!”

“We _were_ babies. Only eighteen and nineteen.”

“Fuck, dude. How did we even handle all that crazy shit?”

“We had each other.”

Chloe on the lighthouse bench, drenched in sunlight. Firewalk with me. An empty grassy knoll with no doe to be found. Chloe laying on the hood of a junked car, pointing a gun to the heavens. Chloe in the cozy chair.

“I still want that fucking chair.”

“Are you cereal?”

“I’ll never get over it. My ass was on a _cloud_. You’d understand if you had tried it.”

“Uh, I was kinda busy being a detective.”

Morning-hair Max and Chloe with bags under their eyes and huge smiles on their faces. Max in Rachel’s red flannel, ready for the mosh pit—or not. Squirrels. Birds. Chloe leaning at her desk, looking beautiful and alive and not in a wheelchair.

“Awwww. Even back then, you still took the weirdest photos of me. Nothing’s changed.”

“I was so happy to have you back. I wanted to remember you just like that. Always.”

“As if I’d ever let you forget me.”

The final photo in the group was of Max and a tipsy Warren, sporting his black eye with pride, in front of the Vortex Club’s End of the World Party. Max was smiling, humoring the boy, but her eyes were full of that familiar, unmistakable fear. Even now, it was hard to look at.

“Warren,” Max breathed, a bittersweet look of nostalgia crossing her face.

“The one, stupid photo that saved the day. And I almost didn’t let him take it.”

“There was no way you could have known. You were freaked about Rachel. Besides, you believed me when I went back. That’s all that matters.”

“Of course I did. I’ll always believe you.” Chloe shook her head. “That whole thing was so fucked up.”

“At least my nightmares have stopped. Mostly.”

Chloe frowned, turning to the girl with concern. “Maybe we shouldn’t look at this anymore.”

“No,” Max said. “I want to. It’s been so long since I’ve seen these. Besides,” she added, playing with the fraying sleeve of her hooded sweatshirt, “I’ll have to face these memories again anyway. It’ll be better if I get a head start.”

The next page contained no instant photos. Instead, they were all grainy, rectangular print-outs of photos taken on a smartphone.

“My photography dark ages,” the smaller girl commented.

“Look how far you’ve come since then,” Chloe said proudly. Max nodded, reaching out to gently touch one photo in the corner. She and Chloe lying on a bed, heads together, taxed beyond recognition. Max’s eyes were closed and Chloe looked about ready to join her. It was raw, but worth remembering.

“I’m glad you took these,” Max admitted.

“Somebody had to.”

 

* * *

 

“They’re here—Vanessa, they’re here!”

“Oh, thank god,” the dark-haired woman rushed to the door, enveloping Max in a tearful, constricting hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay! I can’t believe you had to go through that storm! Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, Mom,” Max said, her voice muffled beneath the lumpy sleeves of her mother’s sweater. Despite her words, she clung on tightly to the woman. “Really.”

“Chloe Price,” Ryan Caulfield greeted, extending his arms out to her. The blue-haired girl smiled and leaned into the man she hadn’t seen in five years. Back then, Chloe could never have predicted that their next reunion would take place under such insane circumstances. “It’s been so long. I’d ask how you’ve been, but—obviously, you’ve seen better days.”

“Uhhh, yeah, definitely,” Chloe agreed. “Thanks for putting us up. I really don’t know where I would’ve gone. I’m—uhh—I’m kinda homeless right now.”

“Is Joyce--?” Vanessa turned her attention from Max upon hearing her words, and Chloe nodded quickly.

“She’s fine. She made it,” she assured them. “She stayed behind to help out with the relief effort. She’s going to bunk up with one of the other waitresses in the next town over until she can figure something out.”

“What about your stepdad?”

Chloe took a deep breath, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “They haven’t found him yet. But Mom says she’ll let us know as soon as she hears anything.” Sure, she hadn’t exactly _liked_ David, but that didn’t mean she wanted him in harm’s way. Especially after he’d saved Max’s life.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Vanessa said, and she, too, embraced the girl tightly. “You know you can stay with us as long as you need to. Our home is your home. Just like it always has been.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said genuinely. She flashed a look at the smaller girl beside her, who was being extremely quiet, and her heart dropped into her stomach. She felt horrible just speaking about what her family had lost, knowing the guilt and pain it was causing Max. Despite what the other girl thought, this whole mess—the storm, the deaths, the fucked-up time nightmare—it was all Chloe’s fault. She knew that. All she had wanted was to spend time with her best friend again, like when they were kids. She had been selfish. If she had just tried harder to convince Max to correct the timeline and let the universe take her when it originally wanted to, none of this suffering would have had to happen. It was not only the most logical decision, it was what was right.

And yet, somehow, Max had chosen _her_. Chloe Price, the least deserving person in the universe, and the one everyone was so quick to abandon and throw away. Max had placed Chloe’s meager existence over the lives of an _entire town_. She still didn’t really know how to feel under the weight of that knowledge. It was—well, it was a lot to process. All she knew was that she was never, ever leaving Max Caulfield’s side.

Max let out a little shiver, and Vanessa pulled her daughter towards the door.

“Let’s get you two inside and warmed up. We’ve got the fire going.”

“Was the drive okay?” Ryan asked as they walked up the steps, carrying the suitcase that contained what was left of their possessions. Chloe nodded absently.

“It was fine once we got out of—uh, you know, the debris and stuff.” This was fucking awkward.

In the Caulfields’ kitchen, Max and Chloe stood against the island, watching Vanessa Caulfield putter around, trying to be helpful. Chloe stared at the floor, and Max stared into space. There was so much to talk about, but all of it was far too heavy after the day they had had. The fireplace crackled and popped cheerfully from the living room—normally, one of the most relaxing sounds in the world, but tonight, all Max could think of was the Two Wales Diner bursting into flames right in front of her, and the town burning all around her.

After the storm, they had spent four hours driving up and down the streets of Arcadia Bay, looking for any sign of life. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been—many buildings were still standing by the end, though all were mere shells of what they had been before the storm. Many houses, though, were destroyed, entire lives washed away by that nightmare’s storm. The Two Whales had made it through, somehow, barely. Even amidst all of the grief she felt, Max would never forget the flood of relief that had washed over her when she threw open the door to the diner and saw Joyce and Frank looking at her with huge, tear-filled eyes. Of course, that relief was soon replaced with horror when she noticed Warren’s lifeless body, pinned between the back of a booth and a car door that had pierced through the side of the diner.

_Warren. I’m—I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry._

Kate, her family, and a huge part of the congregation of her church had made it, too, hiding out in a cellar beneath the sanctuary. Max supposed that maybe there was something to be said for prayer, after all.

Blackwell’s buildings had held up as well as they could have, for the most part. The roofs had major damage, many windows had broken, and the grounds were an absolute mess, but it had otherwise protected most of its inhabitants. When Chloe and Max had gone back, Stella, Trevor, and Daniel had all come running up to them separately, grateful to see more survivors, unaware that it was Max who was to blame for the disaster. Then, of course, there was the bad. Max had found Courtney and Taylor, but no one knew where Victoria was. Neither Dana nor Juliet were answering their text messages. Brooke’s and Alyssa’s Facebook pages, normally filled with witty statuses, scientific musings, and poignant book quotes, were now plastered with photos and heartbreaking messages, wishes of “rest in peace” written over and over again like a broken time loop.

_Yeah. Some angel you were, Max._

“Do you want me to make anything for you?” Vanessa asked. Max shook her head.

“Um, no offense, but I kind of just want to go to bed,” she said quietly. “It’s been a really stressful day.” Max’s parents both nodded understandingly.

“Of course. I’m sure it has. We’ll talk in the morning, if you’re up for it,” her father said, his reddish hair glowing beneath the dim kitchen lights. “We made the bed up in your room. I hope you don’t mind sharing it like when you were kids.” He paused, looking over the state of the two bedraggled girls in front of him. “I’m so thankful that you’re here. Both of you.”

“We’re thankful to be here,” Chloe answered for Max, feeling the truth of her own words.

They all exchanged hugs again, and then Max led Chloe up the stairs to the small room that had been hers for the five years prior to Blackwell. She opened the door and breathed in the old, familiar smell. The room was much emptier than it had once been, since she’d taken most of her things with her to Blackwell, but her furniture was still there, as well as nearly all of her book collection, an old jewelry box, her bulletin board, and some posters on the wall. Despite the lack of clutter, Max still felt more at home there than she ever had in her dorm room.

“Home, shit, home,” Max joked quietly, recalling Chloe’s words before they’d entered the Price household together for the first time in five years. It had only been—what, six days ago? To her, it seemed like lifetimes.

“Now, this feels like the Max’s room I used to know,” Chloe said, looking around. “Wow.” The blue-haired girl sat down on the edge of Max’s full-size bed, and Max shuffled over to sit beside her. “What a fucking day, huh?”

“I don’t think it’s all totally hit me yet,” the brunette said, her face drawn with a resigned solemnness Chloe wasn’t sure she’d ever seen on her friend’s face. “I’ve just been on autopilot since the lighthouse. It’s like, all I want to do is cry, but the tears won’t come out.” Chloe squeezed the girl’s hand tightly.

“It’s over, now, Max. The storm. Nathan. Jefferson. It’s all over.”

“Yeah,” Max said, distantly. She scooted back, lying down against the cool pillows.

“Hey,” Chloe persisted, following her friend backwards. “Listen to me. I know everything is fucked to hell right now, but we made it, Max. We fucking survived. Together.”

“I just wish I didn’t feel like such a monster.” Max curled onto her side, burying her face in Chloe’s shoulder.

“You’re _not_ a monster. Remember what I said at the lighthouse. You didn’t ask for this shit. The fucking universe just threw it at you and expected you to deal with it.”

“I was so selfish. I just—I couldn’t lose you again. Even when you gave me that photo, it just wasn’t even an option. Arcadia Bay never even had a chance.”

“Maybe it wasn’t supposed to! For all we really know, that storm was coming with or without you using your powers. Shit happens! People die!” She looked down at the floor. “Sometimes, people just die.”

“I could have prevented it. I could have gone back and told people. I could have saved someone.”

“You did,” Chloe said, picking the girl’s head up and meeting her eyes. “You saved _me_. And now it’s us against the world. Just like before.”

“Just like always,” Max said softly, her eyelids drooping. She lay her head back down against Chloe’s, and the blue-haired girl laced her fingers through Max’s. “I wish I could just lay here forever and never face the world again.”

“We can, if you want to,” Chloe replied. “I’m not moving.”

The brunette only nodded, the sands of sleep piling up around her, and Chloe smiled wistfully at the girl. If nothing else, Max deserved to be able to rest. Trying not to jostle her, the older girl reached into her pocket with her free hand and pulled out her phone. She held it out in front of them and brought up the camera app, tapping the button indiscriminately. Maybe her best friend was rubbing off on her, but she’d felt a strange need to capture this single moment of peace before it was lost to the inevitable chaos of the following days.

“Love you,” Max mumbled sleepily into the crook of Chloe’s neck. The blue-haired girl closed her eyes too, feeling more comfortable than she could ever remember.

“Love you too, Max. Always.”

 

* * *

 

Max gently laid her head on her Chloe’s shoulder, and Chloe moved to stroke the girl’s long, blonde-tipped locks.

“That photo was taken on the worst day of my life,” Max reflected.

“I know. I didn’t even know what to do for you. I still get pissed, thinking about everything you had to go through.”

After a few seconds of silence, Max sighed. “Sometimes, I can forget. Never for very long, but there are days when everything is going right and we’re just doing our thing and it doesn’t even cross my mind.” She rotated her head to look at the girl beside her. “Does that make me a horrible person? To want to forget?”

“Fuck that,” Chloe replied immediately. “You deserve to live your life without having to think about all that awful shit 24/7.”

“It’s gonna be harder, now.”

“You still wanna go?”

“We have to, Chloe. I already told them yes.”

“So what? There’s still time. Just say the word.”

“No,” Max said, taking a deep breath. “We’ll go.”

“Good,” the blue-haired girl agreed. “’Cause those dishes were a bitch to pack. I had to tetris that shit.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Alright. That’s it.”

“What’s—“ Max barely had time to question her best friend before a pair of black boots stomped past her into the dimly-lit bedroom. The brunette heard a loud sliding noise as Chloe yanked up the blinds, letting bright sunlight spill across the bed. “Hey!” She pouted, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt down over her eyes. “Ugggh. Talk about light pollution.”

“I am officially sick of watching you emo out in this dark-ass cave,” the blue-haired girl announced, folding her arms over her chest. “Get up. We’re going for a walk.”

“Sorry, Chloe,” Max replied, looking back down at the colored blocks she was matching absently on her phone screen. “I’m just not really in the mood.”

“Nope.” A hand reached down in front of Max’s face and snatched the phone out of her hands, eliciting a noise of protest from the smaller girl. “That wasn’t a request. Come on. You need some fresh air.”

“Do we have to?”

“Doctor’s orders.”

“Frequent self-medicating does _not_ make you a doctor,” Max challenged, dragging herself off of the bed and slipping into a nearby pair of flats. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Hurry up. Don’t make me write you a prescription for an ass-kicking.”

“That is also not how it works.”

Max and Chloe made their way out the front door and down to the sidewalk that wound alongside the quiet streets of the Seattle neighborhood. Red and orange leaves danced and swirled through the crisp Autumn air, and Max, feeling the chill, immediately dug her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. Both girls were silent for a minute or two, looking back and forth at all of the Halloween decorations lining the neighbors’ yards.

“Shit,” Chloe realized. “Halloween’s in, like, two days.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot all about it,” Max admitted, having flashbacks to conversations with Dana earlier in the month. “Blackwell was supposed to have a party. I guess there’s not much to celebrate now.”

“We should do something for it.”

“How are you seriously thinking about Halloween right now?” The brunette demanded.

“I’m thinking about the fact that we need to have some fun before we both go ballisto. You need something to distract you.”

Max shook her head vehemently. “No way, Chloe. I can’t. All those people—they deserve to be remembered.”

“I’m not saying you should forget them! But you can’t just hide out in your room for the rest of your life, either. I won’t let you.” Max looked down at her shoes, but didn’t respond. “I’m taking you out on Halloween, Max. We’re gonna go find some cute-ass outfits and binge on weed and candy and booze, and we’re gonna have a good time, and we’re not gonna think about that fucking storm, just for a little while.”

 “I bet Warren wanted to have a good Halloween, too.” Max snapped. “And Alyssa, and Brooke, and Justin—“

 “Maybe they did!” Chloe shot back, stopping in her tracks and turning to face Max. “Or, maybe they didn’t! There’s no way to know now. But, they sure as fuck wouldn’t have wanted you to waste the life _you_ get to live by acting like you’re dead, too.”

At this, Max’s eyes welled up with tears, and she immediately sat down on the curb, the hood of her sweatshirt obscuring her face as she buried it in her sleeves. Chloe sighed, taking a seat beside her, prompting Max to fall miserably into her best friend’s lap. The taller girl pulled Max’s hood back, revealing a messy brown mop which had grown tangled and unkempt beneath the dense fabric. With her fingernails, Chloe lightly combed the strands away from Max’s water-streaked face.

“I’m sorry,” the brunette wavered. “I’m just so fucked up right now. Still.”

“God, I wonder why,” Chloe replied. “It’s not like you just went through a huge, traumatizing event or anything.” She looked down with understanding at the girl in her lap. “Give yourself a break, Super-Max.”

“I just—I feel so guilty. Not just about the storm, but—about just being able to sit here talking to you you, feeling the wind on my face and breathing air in my lungs. They’ll never get to do those things again. It just isn’t _fair_.”

“Nobody deserves to die, Max,” Chloe said pointedly. “Nobody except for piece of shit motherfuckers like Jefferson and the Prescotts.” The blue-haired girl reached into her pocket and returned with a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. She plucked one from the box, lit it, and stuffed the rest back where they had come from. She took a drag, holding it in for a second before sighing out the smoke into the air around them. “You know, after my dad died, I stayed up every night for months, just screaming and crying and begging whatever divine asshole being was out there to bring him back and take me instead.”

“Oh, Chloe,” Max breathed.

“His death was such bullshit. He was just trying to do something nice by picking my mom up from the store. He didn’t deserve—what happened.”

“Of course he didn’t. William was amazing.”

“Yeah. He was.” She took another drag of her cigarette, watching the smoke waft up to meet the trees. “Max, we might not deserve to live instead of them, but guess what? We’re the ones who are still here. _We_ got another chance. The least we can fucking do is make the most of it. It’s our responsibility to every single one of those people buried under the ground of that shithole town.”

“Wow,” Max was sitting up now, staring at the blue-haired girl with surprise. Her friend’s words felt strange on her ears, like hearing a different version of an old favorite song for the first time. ”Where is this coming from?”

Chloe looked down, fiddling with one of the brassy bullets on her necklace. “From you, Max,” she said after a moment.

“Me?”

Another silence fell between them before Chloe began to explain. “Before you came back, I was angry. Really angry.” Max nodded. That part she knew. “I was mad at my dad for leaving me. Mad at you for leaving me. I thought I had finally found someone I could depend on, but then Rachel left me too. And don’t say she didn’t mean to—even before she died, she was never really the angel I thought she was. I’m still so pissed that she lied about Frank. Not that it matters now, I guess.” Her eyes were distant, replaying memories behind them like ghosts lurking around corners, distinctly present, but impossible to touch. ”I felt so alone and so—lost. The truth is, if Nathan Prescott never pulled the trigger in that shitty bathroom, I probably would have done the deed myself eventually. Or—tried to, at least.”

“God, Chloe.” Max’s eyes had filled with tears all over again. “I never wanted you to go through that. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Chloe said seriously. “Everything changed when you saved me that day, Max. The more I thought about it, the more I started looking at things differently. Then, when you ripped up that picture at the lighthouse—that’s when it really hit me. Ever since then, it’s like, I’m seeing everything through new eyes. I got a renewed lease on life, all thanks to you.”

“I’m so glad you feel that way,” Max said earnestly. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Just stop acting like _your_ life isn’t worth anything,” Chloe told her, meeting the girl’s eyes. “You’re worth everything. Especially to me.”

The wind howled through the thick pines as Max stared into her best friend’s eyes, her breath caught in her throat. In that moment, she couldn’t help but wonder if this intense bond she felt with Chloe was altogether normal. The deep attachment that she felt to the other girl was so strong that it made the air around them feel heavier somehow. They had been through so much together—they had altered time and defied fate just to be able to sit there beside one another, breathing the same air and touching the same ground. Their lives were starcrossed, but they had done the impossible: somehow, Max and Chloe had managed to uncross their stars.

Max was first to break the eye contact, shying away from the overwhelming intensity. A strange heat had washed over her face and chest, and her heart was beating so rapidly that she felt the need to hold her breath for a few seconds to calm it. She then exhaled as quietly as she could, lest the other girl pick up on her body’s apparent sudden state of panic.

 _Woah_ , she though, glancing back at Chloe, who was now staring off in thought as she smoked the last of her cigarette. _I guess this “partnership in time” is getting pretty serious._

The truth was, everything felt a _lot_ more real once she’d stopped using her powers. Though she’d only had her rewind for a week, the force of it had been so strong that her life had quickly morphed into a calculated game of trial, errors, and do-overs. Anything she did or said, she could simply take back—and as a result, she’d played around with emotions, reactions, and friendship until they were nothing more than cards in her hand. Of course, manipulating time soon caused time itself to deteriorate into a nightmare, and as her world collapsed around her, Max had been swiftly forced to relearn entirely the true meaning of consequence. Now, a mere few weeks since the time when she had feared nothing, the brunette had begun to second-guess everything.

Kissing Chloe in her bedroom had felt so simple at the time. It had been a dare, and one that Max knew Chloe would never have expected her to actually follow through with in a million years. Maybe she had wanted to see Chloe’s reaction when she actually took her up on the ridiculous challenge. Maybe she had just felt like kissing her best friend. So what? To Max, it had been no more than a harmless choice that she could undo if and whenever she so desired. Now, though, she thought back on this choice with burning embarrassment as she became ever more acutely aware that she had no idea what she was doing.

“We should get back,” Max said, feeling an urge to go splash water on her face in the privacy of her own bathroom. “Mom probably has lunch ready.”

“Wait,” Chloe said, digging in her bag and pulling out Max’s camera. Max’s eyes wandered to it, and Chloe watched the girl’s face flicker with surprise, then confusion, then trepidation. “I uh—I thought you might want to take a quick selfie first. Or just a picture of the leaves! I mean—before you know it, these trees will be hella bare. We should preserve the awesome scenery, right?” She looked hopeful, even as Max took a step back.

“Um—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” With everything that had been going through her head, Max had not been expecting this surprise intervention.

“Why not? I’m not asking you to use your powers. It’s just a picture. Photography is your thing, remember?” Chloe extended the camera out to her, but Max shook her head, taking another step away from her.

“Chloe, let’s just go back. Please?”

“Fine,” the blue-haired girl conceded, after searching her friend’s face. “But this background is amazeballs, so I’m taking one.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “You’re gonna thank me for this one day.”

The sound of the fake clicking shutter played into the breeze, filling Max with a sudden, sharp unease. She sucked in her breath and held it, only letting it out again when the feeling had calmed completely. 

* * *

 

“That was actually a good shot!” Max exclaimed, pointing to the photo of the two of them against a background of vivid Autumn colors.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Chloe retorted.

“Sorry,” Max giggled. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just didn’t think you cared about framing your shots and stuff.”

“Uh, newsflash: I may not be gifted like you, but I do still have eyes.”

“Don’t say that. You’re _totally_ gifted,” Max insisted.

“The bedroom doesn’t count, Max.” Chloe gave her partner a mischievous grin, and Max rolled her eyes.

“Not what I was talking about.”

“You’re saying it’s not true?”

“I’m _saying_ that you are gifted in _many ways_ , including, but not limited to, the bedroom.”

“So, what, like, that time we did it on the trampoline, or—?”

“Chloe Price, you are merciless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someday i will name my chapters but today is not that day.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hang on,” Chloe instructed, shifting the photo album over to Max’s lap and hopping up from the carpet. “I wanna keep looking at this, but I need to throw down some more coffee while the kitchen boxes are still open. You want your tea?”

Max nodded. “Sure, I’d love some.”

“You got it. Save my spot!”

Max watched her partner recede into the hallway until the last glimpse of vibrant blue was gone from her line of sight. Then, she turned her attention to the room she’d been working in for the last hour or two. She couldn’t get over how much _stuff_ there was; it seemed like there was no end to the putting of things into boxes. It was such a stark contrast to how they’d begun their life together. When she and Chloe had first set out after the storm, they’d had practically nothing left to their names. Though roughly seven years had passed since the week of the tornado, Max could still vividly recall entering her dorm room with Chloe to gather whatever remained undamaged. Her window had been shattered by a tree branch, so her laptop and most of the items in the back half of the room were destroyed by the spiteful torrents. It was likely for the best that Max hadn’t been able to fully focus on the loss of material possessions in the moment, too distracted by the horrors of the day. Chloe hadn’t made out much better with her stuff, though they hadn’t spent long looking through the Price house’s rubble before Chloe had broken down crying in the middle of it all. Memories of happier times-- flipping pancakes in the kitchen, playing pirates in the backyard, listening to William tell stories at the dinner table—seemed to escape from the house’s newly-formed cracks like steam from a kettle, too fast to hold on.

They’d lost so much that day, but beneath it all, Chloe and Max knew that that was the cost they had chosen to pay. From that day on, they would either live together or they would die together. There were no other options.

Max looked back down at the album resting on her lap and her eye caught a photo she didn’t quite recognize.

“Hey, what’s this weird blurry picture?” She shouted out the door, her words echoing off the now-empty halls in a way she wasn’t used to.

“Which one?”

“I dunno, it looks like it’s of us, but it’s like somebody dropped the camera while taking it. Why is this one even in here?”

“One sec. I’m almost done.”

A few minutes later, Chloe reentered the room holding two large, steaming mugs. She handed one of them to Max and then sat back down where she was before. “Okay, which one?” Max pointed out the photo to which she was referring and Chloe’s face immediately darkened.

“What?”

“That was Halloween.”

“Oh.” She paused, confusion crossing her face. “Wait-- that’s the best picture we got that night?” Max furrowed her brows, trying to think. “I could have sworn we had a better one.”

Chloe looked at Max and raised her eyebrows. “Dude, do you really not remember?”

“Remember-- what? What happened?”

“God, you probably blocked it out or something. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Chloe looked down at the photo, and Max wished she could see the memory playing behind the girl’s eyes. “I won’t ever forget it.” She stared at the photo for a few seconds longer before shaking her head. “But-- maybe it’s better if you do.”

“Hey, no! Tell me!”

“Nah, it’s nothing, forget it. This was a stupid idea, anyway. We should get back to packing.” Chloe moved to close the book, but Max reached over and placed her hand on top of the other girl’s.

“Chloe.”

“Nope. No way. I’m not letting you relive this one. Don’t you even fucking ask me to, because I’m not doing it. I mean it.”

Max didn’t move her hand. Instead, she clutched Chloe’s hand tighter in hers, pulling it away from the book and gently up to her lips. “Chloe, I love you so much for always trying to protect me so fiercely. But you don’t need to protect me from my own life.”

Chloe didn’t meet her eyes. She looked down at the album, her face painted with resolute anger. In her eyes, though, Max could see the flicker of fear. When the girl didn’t respond, Max pressed on. “I’ve only been able to work through all this because we’ve talked about it. If I’m going to go back there--” Max’s voice cracked. “I need to face it all, Chloe. I need to know I can handle it _before_ we go.”

This seemed to finally stir something in the older girl.

“It was a really great night up until the part in that picture,” Chloe finally began with a sigh, tracing her finger gently over the blurry photo in question. “You at least remember how it started, right?”

Max felt herself smile at the memory. “It was the first time things really felt normal again. Even if they weren’t yet.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Uh-uh. No _way_ you’re backing out of this now, dude. Show me what you look like!”

“I mean it, Chloe. I look stupid. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I bet if I dig around in the garage, I can find some old pirate hats or something—“

“There’s no time! We already agreed to this, so just stop being a pussy and come out!”

“Do I have to?”

Chloe let out a dramatic sigh. “Look, just come out and if it looks really bad we can try something else. I mean, I’m the best one to judge, right?”

There was a pause, and Chloe gave the bathroom door a cross look. She was just about to reach over and start pounding on it when the doorknob began to turn.

The door opened slowly, and out from behind it slunk a very uncomfortable-looking Max, her hand crossed over her stomach and holding her other arm, which was decorated in a shakily-lined body paint tattoo. A loose, white tank top with a skull on it hung over her small frame, and three cold, heavy bullets lay against her chest. Her normally-brunette bob had been temporarily sprayed in a vibrant blue, and was pulled back into a tiny, choppy ponytail to make it appear even shorter.

“Holy shit, Max.”

Max folded her arms self-consciously over her chest, looking at the floor. “See? I _told_ you. I could never pull this stuff off the way you do. I look like a total poser.”

“Are you _kidding_ ?” Chloe gawked. “You look hardcore! I mean, yeah, it’s more like cute-hipster-grunge-baby on you, but—holy shit—you can _totally_ work the colored hair and tats.” She pulled Max back into the bathroom and positioned them both in front of the mirror.

“You really think so?” Max asked, trying to block out her own self-doubt and see herself through Chloe’s eyes. Even though she’d been brave enough to wear Rachel Amber’s clothes just the previous week without feeling too much embarrassment, somehow, this experience was entirely different. The two girls had shared clothes so many times when they were younger, but now that they dressed and acted so differently, Chloe’s wardrobe could no longer be considered just an extension of her own. Now, it was a confusing mix of foreign and deeply familiar, like seeing all your furniture in a brand new house. Donning her best friend’s punk garments felt strangely intimate, like she was trying on a little piece of Chloe herself. She just wasn’t sure she could do justice to the role.

“All you need is some confidence. Face it, Max. You look hot. Own it, sista!”

Max felt her face grow warm and quickly looked away to try and hide it. “So, I dress up like you, and you think I look hot. What does that say about you?”

“What can I say? I have hella awesome taste.”

“And so modest,” Max teased. “Okay, it’s your turn now.”

“Fuck yeah, time to get Maximized! What’d you pick out for me?”

Max walked over to the bed, tugging on one of the straps that had already fallen down her shoulder to set it back in place. She could feel the air coming in through the tank top’s armholes, and she put her elbows down to block it out a little bit. She wasn’t used to feeling quite so… exposed.

 _There’s a photography joke in there somewhere,_ Max couldn’t help but think, before quickly stopping herself. _But… I don’t think I’m making those anymore._

“These might be way short on you,” the brunette warned, handing her best friend a pile of clothing in slightly muted colors, a mixture of things she had either salvaged from her dorm room or found in her drawers at home. “I tried to pick out stuff that’s a little bigger on me, though.”

“Oh, yeah. Sometimes I forget that you haven’t grown since fifth grade.” Chloe took the pile and walked into the bathroom.

“Very funny,” Max replied, watching the door close after her.

In the sudden silence of waiting for Chloe to change, Max leaned back against the railing of the stairs in the hallway, thinking about how strange it still was to be home. When she’d first found out that she had been accepted to Blackwell, Max had pictured an amazing year of making friends, building her portfolio, and starting a new life for herself in a place where no one knew anything about her yet. Instead, she’d gained haphazard time travel powers and had accidentally thrown a tornado at her new school only a month and a half in. This wasn’t how any of it was supposed to go. If things were normal, she might be in her dorm right now, getting ready for the Blackwell Halloween party with Dana, or out grabbing tea with Kate, avoiding the festivities altogether. It was so surreal to instead be back in her new home with her old best friend. Or, maybe now, it was her old new home and her new old best friend?

_Damn, Max. Try not to hurt your brain too much. It’s been through enough already._

And yet, somehow, somewhere inside her, deeper down than the feelings of sadness and anger and guilt, there was something else. As a kindness to herself, she would identify it as relief, but really it was gladness-- that selfish kind of gladness you feel when everything is fucked but, somehow, for you, it’s okay.

“Ooo-kay, so the shirt is a little small, but I made it work.”

Max was snapped out of her reflective daze by Chloe’s voice, echoing behind the bathroom door. “The pants are like, hella high waters though. I guess they’ll have to do.”

“Lemme see!” The anticipation of seeing Chloe in her clothes was weirdly exciting, for reasons she couldn’t quite place. How many times had Chloe and Rachel shared clothes, she wondered? Maybe none-- hadn’t she said Rachel was Max’s size?

The doorknob rattled, and then Chloe emerged with one arm outstretched.

“Ta da!” She announced. “I’m a hella Halloween Hipster!”

Even though she’d grown up with Chloe having her natural dirty blonde hair and normal clothing, Max had become so used to the girl’s punk attire that she had to do a double take when she saw her. It was like looking in a bizarre reverse mirror; Chloe had on a tight-fitting-- though usually loose on Max-- light brown t-shirt covered in a soft pattern of blue-grey fluttering birds and darker brown frolicking does. Beneath the shirt were a pair of plain, faded jeans-- one of Max’s older pairs that she’d never really worn very often as they had always been a bit loose-- and, the cherry on top, a brown wig which had been hastily cut into a choppy bob.

“You look so…” Max thought for a second, “me.”

“That’s the idea!” Chloe said enthusiastically, scooting back through the door to check herself out in the bathroom mirror. “Shit. I haven’t had a natural hair color since--” The corners of her mouth twitched downward, and she glanced at Max. “Let’s just say it wasn’t a good time for me.”

“I think you look great with both.”

“Maybe if this wig didn’t look so fucking fake.” Chloe ran her hand through the stiff, shiny strands. “At least it’ll be dark out.”

“You really think we’ll be able to get into Hallowsfest, Chloe?” Max asked. “I mean-- the website says you have to be 21 to even be allowed to enter. And we don’t exactly look the part.”

“We can totally find a way in! Especially with your hella awesome sneaking skills and my-- uhh--”

“Stomping skills?”

“I was gonna say irresistible charm and good looks.”

“Oh, sorry, my bad.”

When they finally decided they were satisfied with their costumes, the two girls made their way back to Max’s room to grab their stuff and head out. Right as Max opened the door to leave, however, Chloe’s eye caught something across the room and she paused.

“Wait a sec. I think my SuperMax costume needs one more thing.”

The wigged girl crossed the room, and Max felt a sinking feeling in her chest as she watched Chloe stop at the dresser and pick up the one item she was mentally begging her not to.

“Chloe-- no. Come on. It’ll get damaged.”

“As if you didn’t bring your last one everywhere with you for the past five years? It’ll be fine!”

“Chloe,” Max pleaded.

“Please, please, please? I can never be the perfect Max without a vintage camera by my side, can I?”

Seeing the look on Chloe’s face, the brunette sighed.

“Fine. But if you’re gonna bring it, you have to bring my messenger to keep it in.”

“YES! Deal! I’m so psyched! We HAVE to get some awesome pics of us to remember this night!”

“We’ll have nothing to remember if we don’t head out now. Besides, I-- kinda wanna stop at the bookstore before it closes.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming! But first-- say cheese!”

“Chloe!”

“Close enough!” The flash went off in their eyes before Max could utter another word of protest.

 

* * *

 

The truth was, Max could never completely give up her powers. The rewinding, yes, but there were still some things that just _happened_ , whether she wanted them to or not. She still got occasional tornado flashes, though they were usually just nightmares now, and nowhere near as intense as her blackouts once were. The biggest thing, though, were the pictures. She could _always_ hear them.

When a normal person looked at a photograph, the memory might sweep through their mind’s eye in bits and flickers, but when Max looked at a photograph of an occasion she was present for, she could literally _hear_ it, like someone put in a home movie but forgot to turn on the screen. She couldn’t let herself focus on the voices for too long, or she might find herself right back there with them, in danger of fucking up everything. Again. Or worse. Even after all this time, she still had to force herself not to get lost in the nostalgia, the realness, of the sounds. For an inherently sentimental person like Max, it was like streetlamps to a moth.

At first, it was kind of nice for Max to be able to remember it on her own, without the aid of a photograph, but as Max recalled the memory of herself and Chloe getting ready for Halloween, it suddenly felt like she _had_ used one-- but it was wrong, somehow. She could see it happening in front of her, feel herself there in the memory. Chloe was speaking to her, but she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to say back. In comparison to the soft, fuzzy glow of the memories from the photographs, this was like deja vu, sharp and disorienting. What-- what was this?

“Max?” She heard Chloe say, but was it Halloween Chloe or Chloe Chloe? Everything was out of focus. The moving boxes around her morphed into a bathroom door, and then back again.

“Chloe--”

“ _Fuck_ \-- Max?!”

Chloe’s face appeared in front of her, first in a choppy wig and then blue, with short waves tousled up on her head and shaved sides which had been left to grow out a bit too long.

“Chloe,” Max repeated, her soft voice sounding weak to her own ear. “What happened?”

The older girl’s face immediately washed with relief. “You, uh-- went away for a minute.” She still held Max’s hand firmly in hers, studying the girl’s face intently. “Where’d you go?”

“Back to Halloween.” Max closed her eyes, resting her head back against the wall. “It was weird. I know how that night went, but-- it was like, I was there and I couldn’t remember what was supposed to happen next. Like I was creating it, even though it already happened. Why the hell--”

She opened her eyes, and as soon as she caught Chloe’s face, frozen with apprehension, like the flash of a camera, she remembered everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii i got stuck for a bit (okay more like a year) but i'm back now :3


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